


First Blood

by brutti_ma_buoni



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/pseuds/brutti_ma_buoni
Summary: In which Lady Allendale is set a challenge by the Admiral, and proves herself an able lieutenant





	First Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spatz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatz/gifts).



“Well, Perscitia must come, of course.” 

Maria Laurence, Lady Allendale, felt a trifle faint. It was not an uncommon feeling of late, in the great overturning of British society which the dragons were bringing. It was particularly not unusual in conversation with this woman, whom she still struggled to think of as an Admiral, let alone a Duchess, and whose entire life might have been designed to bring on a swimming sense of unreality in the brains of gently born Englishwomen. 

However, Maria had faced down worse than this. She had seen her son turn traitor, reviled, and faced the cold shoulders with stiffened indifference. She, and many others, had suffered vilely under the Occupation; hunger and outrages and more. She had lost her dear husband (or so she told herself, although she did find herself enjoying the freedom from his strictures rather more than she felt appropriate). And even Jane Roland (for to think of this woman as the Duchess of Portsmouth was more than even Maria could quite manage today) had given her more serious qualms, inadvertently – once, by the awkward rise to the peerage, and once by…

*

_”Emily’s father?” The extraordinary Admiral laughed heartily, guffawed even. “Laurence? Oh, hardly. He was far too green, and quite unknown to me, when I took to breeding.”_

_Maria’s prime feeling, as it should be, was one of great relief that her youngest son had not done something so regrettably commonplace as sire a by-blow. To this was added a trifle of regret, for she enjoyed her grandchildren, and Emily was a promising girl if only she would give up the unwomanly aspiration to aviation._

_“No,” had continued Jane Roland, indifferent to all proper feeling. “My liaison with Laurence began when Emily was eleven, I believe. And I took damn good care not to set to breeding then or since, I can tell you. Awkward timing indeed.”_

_Maria often wished, disgracefully, that someone had been present to capture her expression upon hearing these words. She had no idea what her face had done, but it must have been memorable. Even Jane had realised that she had overstepped in frankness a little._

_“Your pardon, ma’am,” she had said. “We have to think of such things with the dragons, and talk to them so openly, I quite forget humans have different rules.”_

_Maria had never managed another sentence in that conversation. But something about it had eased their future discourse. Perhaps, even, there was something that she envied in Jane._

*

Although that conversation still had the power to make Maria writhe at the very memory, she could at least reflect that this present little difficulty would have been a thousand times worse had she been under the unspoken delusion that she was supervising the coming out of a granddaughter from the wrong side of the blanket. All she had to do now was avoid William’s eye when he spoke to Jane, for fear of blushing disgracefully, and mastermind the entry into London society of an illegitimate girl with a disgraceful profession, who was nonetheless the only heir to a dukedom, and a dragon, and a fortune of not less than ten thousand a year. 

Well. The illegitimacy was technically resolved. And the dukedom and the money would certainly ease any lingering doubts among the beau monde. Maria’s real concern was that she had not the slightest idea what the purpose of this ball was. This ball which was apparently to be graced by dragons. 

_Spinster_ dragons. Good God. 

Fortunately, this was the moment when the shade of the very proper Lady Allendale was quashed by the iron will of Maria Laurence, who had survived much worse, and who knew full well that Jane Roland would respond well to plain speaking. 

“Jane,” she said, startling herself, for she had never used the Christian name before. (“Admiral Your Grace” was, however, too much for the required plainness of meaning.) “Why on Earth are we doing this?”

Jane looked at Maria, and laughed. “Oh my dear, I’m so sorry. You are quite baffled, are you not?”

“Well, and can you blame me? I can’t imagine Emily is excited about making her debut-“ (something of a understatement, given Emily’s expressed view upon the cost, weight, style and practicality of her court dress), “-and you scarcely seem bent on establishing her in society.” Jane had just begun to speak of retirement from active aviation, and of the trials of breaking this to Excidium – but with the utter confidence that Emily would take up the task. “I can’t imagine you want to see her married off to a country gentleman with a respectable competence.” 

“No, no, all true,” Jane agreed, all sunny acceptance. “But she needs to be bred, you see, and I wanted her to meet a few other lads before she settles for Demane. Breeding between aviators ain’t ideal. The dragons compete for the heir, see?”

“Oh,” said Maria. She could not extract another syllable to accompany it.

“And I thought it an opportunity,” rolled on Jane, blissfully, “To bring some more _forward-thinking_ views into Society. Just a small number of dragons, but they will leaven the talk of hunting and wars no end. And they have a much more practical approach to matrimony.”

“Yes, indeed,” Maria managed. She had had a discussion with Temeraire about eggs, and the getting thereof, and his unhappy service at the breeding grounds, which had not only caused her direct consternation, it had rendered her incapable of listening to the usual chatter about horse-breeding ever since. How fortunate, she felt, that stallions could not talk as Temeraire did. 

“So it’s perfectly simple,” Jane concluded, patting Maria on the hand. “Find my daughter a nice lover with good bloodlines, and create a new pattern for social interaction in which the dragons have a core role. We have several hours for the event, do we not? That should be plenty.”

There were women, many of them, who would at this challenge have quailed, faltered or indeed turned tail. But Maria Laurence was not among them. She was the mother of a son who had stood up against the law and his country for his beliefs. And William had come by that spine honestly.

“I see,” she said. “In which case, while one must conform to the Palace’s rules for the Presentation, we might perhaps reduce the emphasis on the dress, and increase Emily’s training in dance and conversation, as closer to your strategic goals. We cannot hold the event at Allendale House, we have no appropriate doorways for dragons. I will discuss with Temeraire whether the parliamentary dragons can accommodate us – I’m certain he will support your aims for Emily’s future. We must invite far more young men than I had intended, but also some mothers and wives of prominent men to ensure that the _dynamics_ of a dragon-related even are noted. We must ensure some dark corners for intimate conversations, but Jane, I insist that there will be _no breeding_ on the evening in question. A campaign has more than one battle.” 

She stopped, panting a little with the vigour of her own plans, and scandalised at herself all at once. Jane broke into applause, and Maria bowed slightly, without ever having the intention to do so. “Splendid,” said Jane. “I knew you would make a staff officer if once you were freed to do so.”

Maria laughed a little, and shrugged off the moment. But it came back to her in the weeks and months following, and left her spine straighter, and her horizons broader. 

The ball was by previous social standards an entire disaster, but there was dancing, and food, and dragons mingling with dowagers, and Emily over-rosy on the arm of a moustachioed cad who looked just the chap to let a girl down in time of greatest need. Thus, Lieutenant Maria Laurence (unofficial) felt that her first engagement had been a substantial success.


End file.
